


One Night in Time

by Snowcleo



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-19
Updated: 2010-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:06:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowcleo/pseuds/Snowcleo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately after the events in "Out of Time," Ianto helps Jack cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night in Time

“Ianto. I need you to bring the tow truck.” Jack’s voice crackled in his ear, with no warning ring to let him know the phone call was coming through.

“Jack, what did you do to my car?” Ianto sighed. All he wanted to do was go home.

“Just bring the fucking truck!” Jack snapped, anger lancing through his words, hot and hard. Ianto could hear him through the connection, breathing hard, trying to control himself. _What the hell had happened when Jack followed John back to his old house?_

Ever the dutiful employee, Ianto swallowed a sarcastic response. “Yes, sir.” He grabbed the key ring and headed for the garage.

The really annoying thing was that Ianto _liked_ that car. He’d had it since London. It was the car he had driven to pick Lisa up for their first date. They’d gone to a Chinese restaurant and then to a pub for drinks. When he drove her home that night, she kissed him right there in the front seat. She tasted like strawberries from the daiquiri she’d had and she smelled like heaven. He was pretty sure that was when he had fallen in love with her. Later on, they’d done a lot more than kiss in the back seat. And later still, it was the car he used to pull the trailer to Cardiff, the trailer holding Lisa and the equipment needed to keep her alive.

Screw that, he hated the damn car. But he wasn’t ready to let go of it just yet.

 

John’s house was dark, but the garage door was open and Ianto could see his car sitting inside. Ianto maneuvered the tow truck in front of the house, lining it up with the car’s bumper. Putting the tow truck in park, he stepped out of the cab and started around toward the back to begin hooking up the car. Funny thing was, it looked fine. Not a mark on it. Ianto had been expecting his car to look like it had survived a Weevil attack or some such disaster. “Jack, you here?” Ianto called, “Why does the car need a tow? Did the battery die?”

“Driver’s seat is occupied, so it can’t be driven.” Jack’s voice floated out from a corner.

Ianto looked up at the spot where the voice came from and then over at his car, confused. Finally he saw it, the shape of a man sitting in the front seat, not moving. The wind picked up and the faint smell of exhaust—and death—hit his nose. Suddenly terribly aware of what had happened, Ianto started to rush forward, but a hand snapped out and locked onto his arm.

“Don’t. He’s gone.” A dark form stepped forward, peeling itself away from the wall. “I’m sorry.” Jack said, “I’ll get you a new car.” His face was hidden in shadow.

“I don’t care about the bloody car. What the hell happened? I thought you were here with him.”

“I was.” Jack’s voice was cold and hard and still Ianto could not see his face. He stared into the shadows for a long time, until finally it was Jack who turned away. As he moved, light from the moon splashed across his face. Tear tracks glinted on his cheeks. He dropped his hand from Ianto’s arm and moved to begin hooking up the tow truck. After a moment, Ianto turned to help.

When they were done, Jack walked to the SUV and pulled away, heading back to the office. Ianto, as always, followed. They didn’t speak until they had returned to Torchwood, parked the vehicles, and moved the body into the morgue. As Ianto closed the door of the storage unit which now held a man who had officially been dead since 1953, Jack turned away. “Go home. Get some sleep.” His words were flat and reverberated in the cold chamber.

Instead of obeying, Ianto finished up the paperwork for John’s file. It was the last thing he could do for the man. As he stepped into Jack’s office to place the forms on his desk, he was stopped by a sound echoing up from where Jack’s bunk was. Ianto paused and listened carefully. His blood went cold as he realized what he was hearing. He knew that sound all too well. He’d heard it enough coming out of himself in the weeks after Lisa’s death. Alone in his bunk, Jack Harkness was weeping.

Ianto walked down the steps to Jack’s bunk slowly, not sure that the physical connection he and Jack had begun a few weeks before allowed him the freedom to intrude on something so emotional. Jack was curled up on the bed, facing the wall. He was obviously trying to muffle the sounds he made, but small cries were slipping from behind the hand he had pressed to his mouth. It unexpectedly reminded Ianto of making love, how Jack would sometimes try to keep his voice down. He was never able to be completely silent, though. Soft noises were pulled from his throat with each kiss and thrust. _Which wouldn’t be a problem_ , a small voice in Ianto’s head mock-grumbled, _if the horny bastard would stop jumping me while the others were still in the office._

The bed creaked slightly when Ianto sat down on it. “Sir…” He trailed off not sure what to say. There was no way he was going to spout nonsense like ‘It’ll be alright,’ because frankly he wasn’t sure that anything ever would be alright. Perhaps that was a curse of the rift, fucking things up for those who spent too much time around it, devouring their lives as sacrifices to appease an angry god. Ianto sighed. “Sir, I’m here.” He placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder and could feel the sobs shuddering through him. “I’m here.” Ianto slipped his other hand under Jack’s torso, lifting him and turning him so that he was cradled in Ianto’s arms. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” At that something broke in Jack. He buried his face in the crook of Ianto’s neck and sobbed. His tears poured from him, soaking the shoulder of Ianto’s shirt. As his captain, his lover, clutched him and wept, Ianto held him and stroked his back and kissed the top of his head gently.

When Jack’s tears had finally dwindled away to nothing, Ianto slowly unwrapped his arms and stood up. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to make some tea.”

“Not coffee?” Jack said in a wavery, but hopeful voice.

“No. Tea’s better for you. And then we’re going to take a shower.” Ianto heard Jack’s breathing catch slightly as he walked away.

Ianto came back with two steaming mugs. He pressed one into Jack’s hands, allowing his fingers to stroke over Jack’s for a second longer than necessary. Jack inhaled, staring at Ianto like he wasn’t quite sure what species of alien he was. Ianto ignored him. He moved to sit behind Jack, leaning up against the wall and pulling Jack back to rest against him. Jack’s eyes closed as he settled onto Ianto’s chest, his head on Ianto’s shoulder. They sipped their tea in silence, their breathing slowly synchronizing.

Once the tea was finished, Ianto pushed Jack off of him so that he could stand up. He slowly began to undress, piece by piece, lingering over each button. He felt Jack’s sharp gaze on him, watching carefully as each article of clothing was peeled off and each bit of pale skin was revealed. That done, Ianto pulled Jack to his feet and removed his clothes with the same deliberate slowness, his fingers grazing over arms, chest, legs, buttocks. He kissed each spot where he touched, tasting the salt of sweat and tears, listening to the hitch in Jack’s breath as certain spots were brushed.

“Come on. Shower.” Ianto grabbed Jack’s hand and began to tug him toward the small bathroom.

“Then what?” Jack asked, a hint of his usual swagger coloring his soft question.

Ianto turned back to stare into Jack’s eyes. There was a line he was about to cross, Ianto could see it clear as day. They’d been having sex for a few weeks now. Good sex. Really good sex. ‘Fuck buddies’ was Owen’s oh-so-charming, but not far off the mark term. But this night things were different. Jack was not captain right now and Ianto not the loyal servant. Tonight was not part of the real world, like it was removed from time. Tonight they could be something different.

“And then I’m going to make love to you.” Ianto said simply. His eyes challenged Jack. ‘Love’ was the word neither of them used around each other. Not since Lisa died. Jack’s gaze bored into Ianto until finally he nodded.

“I’d like that.”

 

“Morning, Ianto. You’re here early.” Gwen smiled at him as he handed her a cup of tea.

He glanced down at her, “Late night. Had a situation to deal with, so I slept here.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Everything okay?”

Ianto looked past her to where Jack stood in his office, drinking his first cup of coffee and finishing the breakfast sandwich that Ianto had run out for when they’d woken up. Well, not immediately after waking up. Between a quick morning fuck and and even quicker shower fuck, it had taken a little while for breakfast to become a priority. As if he could feel his lover’s eyes on him, Jack turned and looked at him. Blue eyes stared into blue. And then Jack grinned, his smile lighting up the office like the sun finally coming out after a hard rain.

Ianto smiled as he turned back to Gwen, “Yes, everything is just fine now.”


End file.
